Family (Part 2 of Another World)
by justanothergeekygirl
Summary: Pierce's home is attacked by demons and she and her mother don't survive. Her father is left to fend for his own life alone. Pierce is somehow resurrected and permanently transported to the Winchesters. Sam and Dean now have to protect Pierce from demons, angels and even from herself and the secret that she carries with her.
1. Chapter 1

I wake up lying in a dark, cold room. I hear the crickets outside and soft snoring noises inside. I close my eyes again, wishing that the stale sheets are imaginary. I block the sound of soft rain outside, desperately searching for the humming of my bedroom's air-con. I roll over and feel the scratchy blanket around my arms as I try to tell myself that it's my own soft, worn out blanket. I try to convince myself that everything was just a dream and I am only having a long, bizarre dream of being able to travel between two places because an angel gave me a gift. I tell myself that it's just Wednesday morning and I have school to go to, bullies to put up with and homework not done. I shut myself out and pray that I am right.

I feel the hope drain away from me as reality strikes and I find it harder and harder to face the truth. I hide from the sun rising and slowly lighting up the room. I bring my hands over my ears and curl up into myself. I burrow under the covers and sink as far in as I can. This cannot be real, I cannot have just died and been given another life somewhere else. I remain defiant to the sounds of people getting up and moving about in my own room. I close my eyes tighter as if it would block out the sounds of groggy men waking up.

"Pierce," a voice I refuse to recognize. "It's time to get up. Pierce?" A large hand touches my shoulder and I curl up even tighter. "Pierce, come on." The voice tugs on my blanket and I grip it tight. "Please, Pierce, wake up."

I give up convincing myself that it was all just a dream. I feel tears stream down my cheeks. Mum is dead, Dad's alone and I'm living under the care of two ghost hunters of some sort. I let whoever it is gently tug the blanket off me but I still remain in the same position with my eyes closed and quiet sobs shaking me.

I hear sighs and shuffling of feet. "I'll take care of her," another voice says. "You go get everything to the car." This voice is gruffer than the first and I know whose it is but I just don't acknowledge it.

The bed dips and I feel my shoulders being scooped up. "Alright, c'mere you," the voice says. I am then picked up and gathered into his arms. I loosen up at the intimate contact and his arms tighten around me. He just lets me cry into his t-shirt as I drain of all hope and belief. Neither of us say anything until after I calm down slightly and he speaks up. "You think you're gonna be okay?" He asks. "Come on, let's get into the car."

I nod and he helps me get up. I pull on the hoodie and coat they left out for me and wear my boots. Keeping my head cast down the entire time, I see that he waited for me at the door. I look up into his green eyes and try a smile.

"You'll get used to it soon," he replies. He means the pain, the sorrow and the grieving. I can't imagine what he has been through. I appreciate the fact that he didn't tell me that it will get better for I am sure that it would not. He smiles sadly down at me and I walk to the car.

Sam stands up from his leaning position while he waited outside for Dean and me. "You okay?"

I nod and say, "I'll survive." I open the backseat door and climb in as Dean starts the car. "Where are we headed now?"

"Breakfast," Dean answers. "Then we figure where to go next."

"I thought you guys were on your way to Tennessee?"

"That's just a general direction for us to go," Dean says, keeping his eyes on the road now filling with cars. "I don't really like staying in one spot for too long."

I keep silent and look out the window to watch the passing scenery. My hand reaches up to my neck and touches the circle with the star in it hanging from my neck. I feel the leather rope that keeps it in place tug on the back of my neck. I remember when Dad gave it to me when I was younger. I loved it and put it on. I never took off the necklace again. Dad had always told me that it would keep me safe when I told him about the monsters in my closet. I believed him and I still do.

Lost in my daydream, I don't realize that we have pulled up to a small diner. We walk in and get enveloped by warm smells of coffee and pancakes. We sit in a booth and a middle aged woman wearing too much makeup and a uniform came to take our orders. Sam and Dean both order a short stack and coffee, I followed suit but changed the coffee to tea instead.

When the lady walks off, Sam pulls something out of his jacket. I realize that it's a leather notebook that I've seen them refer to a couple of times during the last case. He places it on the table and flips through the book. Dean leans across the table to look at what Sam is looking for.

"What are you looking for?" Dean asks.

"Just seeing if Dad knows anything about this Summoning Key," Sam answers, looking up to pierce me with his bright green eyes. He returns to flipping page after page of the rather worn and well used notebook. "Right," he says. "What's your last name? Your father's name, maybe?"

I tell him and he nod in acknowledgement. Dean looks at me from his seat next to me. He shrugs and lets Sam do his thing. While waiting, I release my messy, tangled hair from the hair band I put in there since last night. I do my best to tame my tresses down a bit before giving up and pulling my hood over it. I keep my hair band on my wrist to keep from losing it. The waitress serving our food interrupts Sam's searching. He looks up and thanks the waitress. We tuck in and Sam resumes consulting his father's notebook.

"There's nothing in here th-," Sam stops at the back of the book. "Never mind, I found something." He turns the book around so Dean and I can see what he's found. He taps on the last page where it there is a date on top and my father's name in capital letters.

I read snippets from the page. "A year ago, he completed the tasks and the tablet crumbled to ashes… He doesn't have the key. It is suspected that his child may have it. I promised him that if anything happens to him and his wife, I would care for the child as my own and keep the girl safe… Train her to be strong and be able to defend herself… Make her my own daughter and that Sam and Dean would be her brothers and also take up the family business… Tell her he's sorry for putting her through this, he wouldn't have done it if he had the choice." That is the last line, John Winchester wrote about my father. Slotted under the leather cover is a small piece of paper with my name on it. I pull it out and unfold the little note.

I recognize Dad's handwriting immediately. It reads, "I couldn't keep you safe, I have been a terrible father. Trust and follow the Winchesters, they are much stronger than I can ever wish to be and you will be safe in their hands. They are good people. I'm sorry I can't spend more time with you. I wish I could be by your side through this dangerous life you were forced to live because of me. I may not have given you much but I wish I could. Just know that wherever you are, no matter how far we are apart, your mother and I love you very much. You're an amazing girl and I know you'll survive for a long time. This is my last piece of advice to you: no matter what comes to you, be brave and face it with your chin up."

"What's that?" Dean asks.

I feel my nose tingle with impending tears. I haven't cried so often before in my life, and I hate it. It makes me feel weak and useless. I give Dean the letter. He reads it with a little frown creased on his forehead. He looks at Sam and let him read the letter as well.

Sam reads it and studies me with a sad smile. I look at him with a lost look. I am unsure if they would take me in. I am just some strange girl they picked up from the side of the road that somehow had connections with their father. They let me stay with them so far, I don't see them to not do that now. Then again, I have this curse upon me that sets supernatural things on my tail. It puts them at risk, why would they risk their lives for me?

"Well, now that that's out, I suggest we start training you," Sam decides.

"Training?" Dean asks.

"Yeah," Sam says as if it's a very obvious thing to suggest. "She's going to be coming with us, she has to know how to throw a punch and handle a gun."

Dean shakes his head, "No, we're supposed to keep her safe. Safe means not putting her in circumstances where she needs self-defense."

"It's okay," I cut in before Dean can continue. "I'd feel a lot better if I can defend myself, whether I need it or not."


	2. Chapter 2

We stand in a clearing in a forest somewhere off the highway. There are birds chirping and orange sun beams shine down between thick leaves. Dean is instructing me on different ways of self-defense and how to throw a punch or serve a kick strong enough to disarm an opponent. We have been doing different exercises the whole day and currently I am learning to throw my opponent to the floor.

"You're a quick learner," he groans as he lies down on the ground where I managed to flip him over when he attacked from behind me. Sam laughs from where he's leaning on the car. Dean lifts his head to look at him and say, "Shut up."

"I did take some martial arts classes back home," I answer modestly.

Dean finally gets back up and I have to crane my neck to look at him. "Why didn't you tell me that before we started this?"

"Well, I wasn't very good at it," I smile innocently. "You're a good teacher."

"Oh yeah?" Dean asks skeptically. "For that compliment, I'm letting you off the hook."

I can't help the grin that widens on my cheeks. I am only in my t-shirt and jeans, having taken off everything else because they only serve as resistance. I'm sweating and a cold wind sends me shivering.

"Maybe, we should rest for now," Dean decides, walking to his car. He takes a swig of water from a mineral water bottle and tosses me a towel.

I wipe down most of the sweat on my arms and neck, pulling my hoodie back on. The day gets darker and we decide to go for dinner then rest at a motel for the night. At the motel, Dean takes a little longer than usual to get his things out from the car. Having settled in myself, I go back out to see if he needs help.

I walk to where he has his head inside his car boot. He has the secret compartment open. I look at all the weapons inside, knives of all sizes filled up one side while guns strapped into place took over the rest of the space. He loads a silver gut and pocketed it before throwing a few more into his duffel bag.

"What are you doing with all that?" I ask when he passes the heavy duffel to me.

"I'm gonna teach you how to use them all," he answers simply.

I learn to load and disarm a revolver a few times, Dean seems satisfied that I can wield it safely enough. We move on to a semi-automatic pistol and I load and unload that too. Dean shows me how to use them and some precautions to take.

The pistol is a lot heavier than it looks. I couldn't carry it with one hand without my arm shaking and giving way not five second later. I use my left hand to support my right when I hold the pistol up. I lift it up a few more times until I cannot feel my arms anymore.

"Can we stop now?" I ask, worn out and tired.

"Yeah, we can," Dean nods. "Unload everything and keep them before going to sleep," he instructs. He says this in a no-play tone and I don't waste a second.

I unload every gun and double check to make sure. I keep the bullets back in their boxes and toss them into the duffel bag. Dean and Sam get ready to sleep, bickering quietly over who gets the bed tonight. I smile to myself when they resolve to rock, paper and scissors to decide. I brush my teeth and comb through my hair before changing into a clean t-shirt and my boy shorts in the bathroom.

When I come back out, Dean is grumbling as he lays down blankets on the carpet to serve as his bed for the night. Sam laughs smugly as he makes a big show of lying down on the bed and making himself comfortable. Dean sits with his legs propped up and supporting his elbows. He doesn't look happy and Sam falls back onto his bed and moans.

Dean catches my eye and I raise an eyebrow. "I have to sleep on the floor," he whines.

"If you want, I can switch with you," I shrug. "I don't mind."

"Really?"

I nod and he dives into the sheets face first. I cock my head as I watch him stretch like a cat, content with his comfort. I laugh to myself as I settle into the makeshift mattress Dean had made. Being closer to the ground, I could smell the stale carpets and see the stains on them as well. I ignore the rough conditions and lay my head on the pillow. I close my eyes, tired, and the world goes black.

I dream about what happened when I died. The day of training had taken my mind off it but now it haunts my sleep. I can hear the crash of the door coming down. I can hear Jessie's voice down the hall. I remember the secret room full of weapons and odd things. I remember its stony prison-like walls with that one window. I run into the forest, so dark and so quiet. I hear the gunshot and I can see my wound, but I don't feel the pain. I see my mother, but it's not her anymore. She holds the gun to my chest and pulls the trigger. In my fading vision, I see my dad. I see him stab her. The last I remember is my mother's terrible shriek when she was stabbed.

I open my eyes and find myself in cold sweat. I am panting from the memory of running. Adrenaline pumps through me along with a wash of grief. I wipe away the stream of tears on my cheeks. I hadn't noticed I was crying until then and I let out a sob.

I don't want any of this. I am stuck in a place I happened to have gone to in my dreams. Apparently, it's all real and not just my overactive mind. I am stuck with these two men I barely know. I don't want to go anywhere without my father. I don't want my mother to be dead. I don't my father to be in danger halfway around the world. I want to go home. I want a simple, with my family and a home. Now, that's all gone.


	3. Chapter 3

It has been months since the incident and I have gotten more or less used to the lifestyle of the Winchesters. We wake up, get coffee, and see if there are any jobs going around. If there is, we solve it. If there isn't, we stay if we like the town or go if we don't.

For the first couple of months, my recurring nightmares have dominated my dreams. I was filled with grief, sadness and homesickness. The Winchesters helped me through some rougher patches when all I could do was sit and worry about my father. They told me that sitting around will not help him, and that the only way to help is to train up to defend myself.

So that's what I did. I trained and I practiced. When there was a case, I would get into it head first. Sam and Dean are amazing teachers. With their coaching, I learned to fend off larger men and even slightly weaker vampires. Also, I turn out to have quite an accurate aim that only got better in time.

In these eight months or so, I have learned a lot about my two guardians as well. Both of them share some traits. For example, the two of them would risk their lives to save innocent people from supernatural killers. They both were also big on family. They would go to hell and back for each other, literally. They have very little in this world but the people they love and care about and they would do anything to protect them.

They do have differences and those differences are what make them a perfect duo. Dean is all gusto and very flirty. He does have a bit of a habit to underestimate every other being he sees. He probably worships a woman's body more than her in general. But under his rather chauvinistic surface, there is a lot more. He gives respect to anyone who earns it and to have his respect is an amazing honour I secretly wish to someday get. Aside from his harsh behaviour, he does have a big heart though he doesn't admit it. His heart is what leads his way, through thick and thin. In other words, he is righteous and has faith as strong as a puppy to its owner. I can see in his eyes that the world has taken advantage of this and it has hurt him many times.

Sam on the other hand, uses his head. He and Dean get into a lot of fights because of this and I would have to break them up and reason out everything for them. Sam will think first and do research before making any decisions. Dean makes fun of him for his love of researching. Though thinking is good, Sam does tend to forget how to follow instincts and questions a lot. He is more open than Dean when it comes to showing affection, though. He is softer, gentler, and according to Dean, rather sappy.

As for me, I have my own gifts, of course. I can lie without batting an eyelid and am sometimes too sneaky for my own good. I have gotten us out of some sticky spots by lying and glazing past the right words. I admit that I am a bit more reckless when it comes to investigating and fighting, preferring to get into the thick of the fight. More often than not, I follow Dean into the lair of whatever we're fighting while Sam stays back and cover us. You can say I am closer to Dean than I am to Sam but I think the bonds are equally strong.

We have grown quite close and I regard them as my elder brothers. We argue, we joke, and we fight ghosts. I have come to get used to having two rather protective men watching my back all the time. Though I do not grieve so much now for my past life, I still carry a small faith in me that my father is alive and well. The hunting has taken my mind off the curse that I was born with and all that it has done for me so far.

Right now, it's a bit of a down time for us and we just hang around for a while in town. This town we're in is nice and quiet, full of people coming in and out but hardly ever staying for long. The boys and I are getting a few things from a mini market. The shop is small and empty save for the shop keeper who is a small, sweet little old lady.

I walk down every aisle, dropping a few things into the basket hanging off the crook of my elbow. When I reach the back of the shop where the toiletries are, I become aware of two rather suspicious looking men inching towards me. Neither of them looks threatening. No tattoos or ripped sleeves but a certain air about them made my hair stand up.

Trying my best to look unsuspecting, I drift slowly towards where Dean and Sam were getting beers from the fridge. The two men follow me and get closer with each turn I make. I feel relief when I lose them but I should know better. I find the boys and walk briskly to them, feeling a bit cautious now. I don't make it to them. I am caught from behind and have my arms clamped to my sides and a hand over my mouth.

Wrestling with my captor, I bite the hand on my mouth and kick the man's groin until he swears loud enough to get Sam's attention as Dean's back is facing me. Seeing that they've been discovered, the two men take off, the one I hadn't kicked flinging me over his shoulder. The last thing I see as I writhe around on my captor's shoulder is Dean and Sam running out of the shop to catch up with us.

My captors are not human, at least, not on the inside. I realize this when I see their eyes go all black when they turn to see if Sam and Dean are chasing. I, obviously, fight as much as I could before they knock me out with a hard blow behind the head. All goes black.

I wake up in a dark, cold place, there is only one light in the room and it's shining down on me like a spotlight. I try and get up but my arms are tied to my sides and I am bound to the straight back chair they put me in. My legs are tied with the same rope that wraps my body and arms. My hands are put behind me and my wrists and ankles are chained to the ground.

I hear footsteps echo about the walls that I cannot see. From the shadows, a man appears. He is slightly round, with some facial hair and something sinister in his smile. He chuckles and the sound sends a chill down my spine.

"Hello, darling."


	4. Chapter 4

**Ooh a slight cliffhanger, the last one. So to recap, Pierce was captured by some men and put in a dungeon. She wakes up to find herself bound and facing a sinister looking man.**

"Hello, darling," he drawls in a strong British accent.

"Who are you?" I ask him.

"Oh, the boys haven't told you about me? I'm very disappointed," he says. "I'm Crowley, king of Hell. Tell me, how are my favourite two hunters doing?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," I say.

"Oh, let's not do this," he sighs. "I know you have been spending the past few months living with the Winchesters. Tell me, how are they doing?"

I ignore his question. "What do you want?"

"Not into small talk, I see," he shrugs. "Well, neither am I. So you can just give me the Summoning key, we can be on our way."

"I don't have it," I tell him.

"Don't lie to me, girl," he snarls. "I don't like playing games."

"I'm telling you the truth: I don't have it," I tell his firmly to his face. "Now let me go."

He drags a steel cart into the light, any sort of playfulness gone from his eyes. It makes him even scarier than he already is. He points to the tray. "Do you see this? These here are all the things I can use to bring out the answers I want from you." He selects something off the top of the cart and shows me a very sharp looking knife. "I don't want to use any of these things on you, darling. So if you could just tell me where the key is," he asks another time.

I put my chin up to him defiantly, "I don't know."

He brings a hand across my face and I feel the sting on my left cheek. The force of the slap sends my head sharply turning to the side. I hit my head on the high back of the chair.

"I don't like hitting girls," he says. "I shall get my assistant to do it." On cue, a tall female figure struts into the light. The lady stands near me and Crowley asks again. "Now, where is the key?"

I scoff, "You need to clean your ears, mister. I told you, I don't know."

"Really?" His raises his eyebrows and says, "Word on the street is that you are the only person in this world who knows how to get to it."

"Maybe you got the wrong girl," I shrug. He's got the right girl, but she doesn't know squat about anything, either. So we are all stuck.

Crowley raises his eyebrows with an unimpressed expression and the other demon punches me in the stomach, and I cannot curl up with the pain because of the rope tying me to the chair. She continues to hit me on my head and stomach until Crowley tells her to stop. I gasp for breath and spit out some blood from my mouth.

"I'm a lot nicer than you think," Crowley whispers in my ear. "Now you tell me where to find the key or we'll have to zap it out of you." I say nothing and he gestures to his assistant. She brings out something that resembles a dentist's drill.

"This thing you see here," Crowley explains, waving it in front of me. "It digs out anyone's deepest, darkest secrets. The deeper it is, the more painful. Hopefully, if that doesn't work, the pain will be motivation enough."

He aims the drill thing to my head, he presses a button and a high pitched sound comes out from the tool. The sound gets louder and louder, enveloping me in its single high note. Soon, I get a headache. It gets worse and worse but doesn't stop. My sight gets blinded with a white light and everything nerve in my body fries. I think I scream but I can't tell. The pain stops and I see Crowley and his assistant looking expectantly at me.

"Feel some motivation to tell me anything yet?" Crowley inspects.

I take a while to get my senses back in check. "I don't know anything," I tell them again.

"Oh, come now," Crowley tuts. "No need to put up such a strong game, we'll uncover it soon enough."

He points the tool to my head again and I go through the agony again. Nothing seems to come out of it and Crowley knows that too. He turns off the drill thing and I fall limp against my restrains. I hang my head low, trying to rid myself of the migraine and remaining flashes of white in my view.

"This is not fun," Crowley complains. "I'm going to get some rest." He turns to his assistant and says, "You can have your fun now, just don't kill the poor child."

His assistant looks at me and smile so vicious she might as well have long, sharp teeth to go along with it. She saunters towards me and raises one arm. I brace for the pain that will inevitably come and she punches me so hard on my cheek that I feel my skin tear and bruise. More punches rain down on me. My sides, my stomach and my head start to swell and she hits relentlessly.

She leaves me after I start spitting up blood from cut lips and sore jaws. I listen to the tap of her high heeled boots get further and softer. A loud click sounds out and the single bright light above me goes off. I am now in the solace of pitch black loneliness. After the company I have had, I'm not afraid of the dark anymore.

"Good morning, sunshine," Crowley's obnoxious voice wakes me up. "Had a good rest? Because I have." He laughs and his assistant appears beside him. She is holding the dreaded tool in her hands. He sees me look at it and Crowley retrieves it from his assistant.

"I see you're very eager to get started."

I am blinded by the pain once again. I fight against the bonds on me but they're on tight. It feels like forever before he lets go. He asks me about the key and I tell him that I don't know anything. With every time we go through the ordeal, he gets less and less patient. I'm glad that I really don't know anything, because I would've voluntarily told him to avoid his wrath.

This goes on for so long, my mind is now numb and sometimes, they have to throw a punch or two to rouse me back to the present. I wonder what information they are getting because I don't feel anything except pain. Judging their flustered expressions, I'm giving them about as much as I can see: empty and white as a sheet of paper.

"This is not getting us anywhere," Crowley growls. "There must be a different way to get the information out of you."

"I told you," I pant during one time he lets me rest and hopefully give him something of interest. "I know nothing."

Crowley scowls in frustration. He is not getting anything from me yet and he needs a better method. He taps the tool on his palm as he thinks. I smile at the assistant as she watches me while Crowley paces back and forth. She gives me a vicious snarl and I feign offense. My mocking earns me a few slices across my shoulders and chest. I yell out at the searing pain and she is satisfied. Suddenly, Crowley gets an idea and interrupts our little exchange.

"It is said that the deepest, darkest secrets and emotions are from the heart," Crowley reasons thoughtfully. He looks at me sinisterly, "Let's see how alike you and your favourite Winchester boy really are."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask wearily.

"You and I both know Dean Winchester follows his heart more than his head," Crowley explains. "Foolish really, gets him into so much trouble with everyone." He cocks his head, "You two seem to connect, so maybe that'll help us along."

He points the hateful thing at me once again. This time it doesn't aim for my head, but my chest. The pain is worse than the one on my head, if that is even possible. I can hear my screams of agony and I can tell that the sound is like music to them.

The pain this time is like acid eating on my heart. Its beats are irregular, fast and slow at the same time. For seconds at a time, it stops beating at all. It twitches inside me and my chest feels like caving in and exploding at the same time. Before long, flashes of images come to me but I can't decipher them. Crowley stops when I think my heart is ready to combust.

I am panting but I put up a strong front and spit out the blood pooling in my mouth. "Got anything?" I ask them and get twin snarls in return.

"For someone who is in a lot of pain, you don't seem to be any less sassy then when I first got you," Crowley sneers. "Maybe it's not painful enough for you. I can change the settings and increase it intensity, if you want."

"How can you get anything out of me if I have nothing to give?"

"You can leave the philosophical lines to me, darling," he snarls.

"Of course, Aristotle," I chuckle.

"Don't make me turn around and let her do what she wants to you," he threatens.

"If it kills me, you're not getting anything either," I tease him some more.

In a bit of a rage, he presses the button on the drill thing again. The pain comes back but I guess I deserved that one for being so cheeky. I am fast growing hopeless and I need something to keep my spirits up. Seeing them get angry and flustered does lift my mood a little.

The images show up again and they seem slightly clearer now than before. I pray that they don't get any of it. I don't know what those images are and I don't want them finding out before I do. I needn't worry about that, apparently. They are getting about as much as they did when they pointed that weird thing to my head. I don't know what that thing is, but I would like to find its manufacturer and burn down the factory.

Crowley gets bored and vents his frustration by ripping me to shred before going off to rest. I can't even tell how long have I been in this place because they have no windows or clocks. I don't know when it is night or when is it day. All I know is fist, knives, painful images and blinding pain. His assistant has her fun with me after he leaves. By the end of it, my nose is broken and my left eye is swollen until I can barely see with it.

Spitting out as much blood as I can from my torn cheeks, things go black and I pass out.


	5. Chapter 5

I am roused again but this time not by steady steps. Scuffling and sounds of struggle come from outside the room I'm in. Or maybe it is inside, but I can't really tell. I don't even know the size of my prison. The scuffling noises sound so much like the one that life changing night so many months ago where I hid in the secret room while my dad fended off demons. Grunts and shouts echo off the walls but I see nothing.

I start thinking that the sounds are just my imaginations running wild. I even hear my father calling out my name. I lean my head back against the chair I have been tied to. I am tired even though I put up a good show for Crowley whenever he's around. My body is sore and mentally I am worn. The running sounds get closer and closer. I realize that there are not one but two voices calling out for me. Neither of them belongs to my father and I strain my ears to listen. I ignore the pain in my body, and call out as loud as I could for help.

"Pierce?" Sam's voice echoes down the room. "Where are you?"

"I'm in here," I call out. I remember that I'm in the dark and shout, "There should be a switch nearby for the light."

I hear some fumbling and the lights come on. Not just the single spotlight on me, but every fluorescent light attached to the ceiling of the apparent factory room I'm held in. Crowley likes to be dramatic, it seems. The cart with the torture tools he never used is sitting slightly further away from me, still containing all those wretched daggers they have used on me.

Dean sees me and runs to free me. He cuts the ropes that snake around me and pick the locks on my chains. I shake my arms to put some feeling back in them. Dean comes in front of me to check if I have any broken bones or mortal injuries, peppering me with questions.

"I'm fine, Dean," I tell him. "Let's just get out of this place."

I move to stand up but collapse almost immediately when I do. I am blinded by a white light similar to the ones Crowley has given me. I clutch my chest and feel my pendant there. I am grateful they didn't notice that and take it away. Still in shock and in a lot of pain, Dean supports me under my arms so I could stand and walk.

My left ankle hurts with each step. I can't decide if it was twisted or not but I grit my teeth and walk as best as I could. Sam wields a dagger in his hand, making sure no one attacks us. I see the path of dead bodies they left when they came in and we follow it out into the fresh air.

We are out and I blink in the bright sunlight. I feel the summer breeze soothing my wounds. I don't get to enjoy it for long because an alarm wails and we duck into the Impala and drive off. Sitting in between the guys, I inspect my wrists which are hurting almost as bad as my ankles are. I almost gasp at the ugly cuts and grooves that circle my wrists. Deep cuts with dried blood and scabs line multicolored bruises. I think I caused these with all my struggling against my bonds while they tortured me. They are horrible and hopefully they won't leave too obvious a scar.

I look out to see us driving into a different motel than the last one. I start to notice that this is no longer the small town with the small mini mart anymore. This town is different, slightly busier and a lot less quiet.

"Where are we?" I ask, my voice slightly hoarse. I need water. Crowley didn't offer me water during our wonderful time together. Dean stops the car and Sam helps me get into the room.

"You were taken quite far away from the last town," Sam explains. "About a day's drive away."

"How did you find me?"

"It took us a while, somebody told us where you were," Sam says.

"Who would tell you that?"

"A friend," he answers shortly. "It's long story. Here, sit," he offers an unmade bed. "Are you hurt?"

"Nothing that will kill me," I reply, brushing his concern off. Then I remember my torn up arms and chest still fresh and bleeding. I look up at him and shrug, totally not bothering with my bodily fluids dripping off me. When I manage to shoo off Sam's concern, Dean comes in and does the exact same thing.

"I'm fine!" I insist. "They wouldn't kill me or hurt me so bad that I'll die or anything."

The two of them back off and I look up at them smilingly. I might look a bit crazy, smiling after just being kidnapped, but I just feel happy they came for me. I feel relief, and I feel safe. I trust these two to be my knights in shining armour, and they delivered. That's all that matters.

"You need some water?" Dean asks.

I nod, coughing a little and swallowing the blood that came out with it. Dean pours a glass of water for me and hand it to me. As I reach for it, the blinding pain takes over me again and the world becomes white nothingness. I grab my head to stop the high pitched sound but to no avail. I curl up with the pain in my chest as my heart decides if it wants to explode or implode.

I see the images and the high pitched sound becomes words. I can't understand any of the words because they were said too fast and possibly a different language. I shout out as another wave of pain courses through me and the high pitched sound gets louder. My head is in a spin, whispers of foreign words and flashes of someone doing something dart around and something claws my chest.

It stops and I gasp for breath. I have fallen off the bed when I had the images and now I'm clawing at the laminated floor so hard that I left scratch marks on them. Dean and Sam are kneeling next to me at the foot of the bed, their faces are mirror images of each other's concern. Dean places a hand on my shoulder and I try to shrug it off as another wave of white hot pain comes.

This time, I can almost make out the words being said. The images, I see now, are of a ritual. A bowl of blood, a sacrifice, and some other things that are scary and creepy that I don't comprehend. The method and steps for the ritual are shown and with a bit of concentration, it becomes slightly clearer. The words I hear are a chant or a spell. Too late, I realize what all of it means.

"I am the key," I whisper hoarsely.

"What?" Sam asks.

"I hold the secret to summon every evil creature to the surface of the earth," I say mostly to myself. "I figured it out. This is bad."

This is really bad, the main reason I'm here is to avoid finding out about the key. It's supposed to stay hidden from mankind until the day I die. Now that I know it, I can't trust myself to keep it for long. I cannot tell anybody, not even Dean and Sam.

Another shot of pain that seems extra intense comes and I groan. The pressure on my lungs stops me from breathing and I collapse on the floor. Dean picks me up and I hang limp like a rag doll even though I am fully conscious. I have lost the strength to lift even one finger. All I can do at the moment is breathe shallowly.

They lay me gently on the bed and the sheets and pillows are so soft to my weary body. I feel the drowsiness that washes over me and I blink slowly at the two of them standing over my bed. Whatever wall of defense and pride I had left comes crashing down and my true fatigue shows.

"I'm so tired," I murmured.

"Go to sleep, you're safe now," Dean says gently and I do.

**Because gentle and loving Dean is the best Dean to have in the world. I wrote in the end that Dean kisses Pierce's forehead when he told her to sleep but I thought it to be to fast into a familial relationship. Especially since Dean is not big on the love stuff. You can imagine it in if you want, I didn't want the Winchesters to be OOC.**


	6. Chapter 6

I had a good sleep, or rather I was unconscious. I was too tired to dream of anything so nothing haunted me in my sleep and when I wake up, it is already night time even though when I fell asleep it was still midmorning. The place seems quiet except for the sound of the television playing softly, and I turn my head left and right to look and see if there's somebody there.

Dean is sitting on the next bed flipping through channels but Sam is nowhere to be found. Still feeling a bit drowsy, I close my eyes and embrace the normalness of the TV droning on in the background. I need a break from all the demons and evil stuff for a little while. Even if it's just five minutes. I still feel weak and sore all over and I don't want to move for fear of feeling pain. I take a few deep breaths before opening my eyes again. I lift my hand to my aching head and wince when I feel the wound there.

I hiss involuntarily and Dean turns around. He gets up and says, "You're awake. How are you feeling?"

"Like shit. Better, but still shit," I reply. I try and get up, but immediately become giddy and Dean settles my back onto the bed again.

"Easy there, kid," he says.

"I need to clean up my wounds," I mumble.

"Let me do it," he offers. Not letting me answer, he gets the first aid kit and a towel in a bowl of water.

He sits down in front of me and sets the things down on the bedside table. Gently, he takes my wrists and wipe off the dried blood on them. Now, the cuts don't look as grisly but the bruises are still bad.

He uncaps a bottle of ethanol and warns me, "This is gonna sting a little."

"Yeah, I hate this stuff," I mutter. I still jerk and hiss when the alcohol touches my skin. "Where's Sam, anyway?"

"He went out to get some food," Dean answers while rolling bandages onto my wrists. Finishing with my arms, he moves to my head where he grimaces when he lifts up my hair from the wound.

"Is it bad?" I ask, reaching up to touch it.

Dean catches my hand before I can get to it. "Don't touch it," he says. "It's not the worst I've seen, but it's not pretty." He wipes the side of my face from the hairline down. I catch a glimpse of the red stains on the towel before he rinses it in the warm water. More ethanol and bandages are involved and soon my head is patched up. The bandage is slightly tight around my head, but the pressure helps my faint headaches. I touch it gingerly and feel the rough gauze against my fingertips.

From my head, he moves on to the slash wounds. They needed stitches so he got dental floss, a sewing needle and a bottle of strong alcohol. The stitching is a slow and painful procedure and luckily not all of my cuts required it. We don't have anesthetics of any sort so I am forced to endure the pricks in full force. I then get to wash them in painful douses of vodka. Lovely.

"Thanks," I smile bitterly at Dean after recovering from the stitches.

"No problem," he says, smiling back. "Is there anything else that needs checking?"

I involuntarily look at my ankles folded underneath my thighs. Dean catches my furtive look and places a hand on my knee. It is summer and it's hot enough for me to wear my denim shorts andI can feel his calloused hand against my skin.

"Let me see your legs," he whispers in a voice that doesn't encourage argument.

Slowly, I unfold my leg and shift position so my knees are propped up and my sore ankles in full view. I take off my boots and socks, revealing scar not unlike the ones on my wrist but more serious. Dean sighs as if I'm being childish before placing my feet on his lap so he could tend to the wounds there. My ankles are bruised and the left one is swollen. When Dean touches it, I draw back with a hiss. It really hurts and I don't want to move it again. Dean tries to get to it again but I just pull back. He looks at me with a raised eyebrow and I just shake my head.

"Okay, we'll do this one first then we'll take a look at that swollen one, okay?" He says.

I let him do my right ankle, keeping my left one out of reach. Though a little bit of physical pain is nothing like the agony I went through during the flashing of images, I still don't want anybody touching it. For a life like this, it may sound very childish but I am barely 16, I'm allowed to behave like this while I can.

Dean cleans and wraps up my right ankle and I grit my teeth when he applied the ethanol. After that it done, I curl up and move back into the bed post, still reluctant for my left ankle to come in contact with anything.

"I'll be gentle, okay?" Dean coaxes. "If it hurts a lot then I won't touch it anymore."

I still don't move but I let him pull it towards him as gentle as he can. He brushes the towel over it to clean it. When he puts a bit too much pressure, I whimper and try to move away. "Alright, alright," Dean soothes everytime. "We're almost done."

He manages to keep me calm to clean all the dried blood off the swollen ankle. He inspects it, moving my foot to make sure it's not broken. It hurt and I cry out in pain. "No, don't do that," I cry.

"Okay," he says, letting go of my foot and I bring it back to me. "It's not broken or twisted, just sprained. I'm just going to wrap it up and it won't hurt after that. Are you gonna let me do that?"

"Is it going to hurt when you do it?" I ask in a small girly voice that I am not proud of.

"I can't lie," he says grimly. "It'll hurt, but if it doesn't hurt it doesn't heal, right?"

"I guess," I mumble, "but I still don't want to do it."

"It's only going to get worse if you leave it," he says. "It might become permanent. Do you want to limp for the rest of your life?"

I let out a huff of air and thrust my foot back on his lap. "Just get it over with quick," I say. I squeeze my eyes shut and brace myself for the pain. I grit my teeth when he touches it. Some spots hurt more than others and I let out a little "ah" when the bandage squeezes it. After a few minutes of tightly shut eyes and grit teeth, I begin to feel the ankle get numb to the outside world.

When I can't keep my eyes shut anymore, I open an eye with curiosity and ask, "Are we done?"

Dean chuckles and I open my eyes fully. My ankle is wrapped tightly with white bandages going around the back and bottom of my foot. The wrap stops my foot from moving too much and my ankle is in relief of pain at last. I wiggle my toes and smile contentedly.

"Feels a lot better, doesn't it?" Dean asks with a slanted smile.

I grin and nod. I cross my legs again and lean my body forwards with my arms outstretched. "Thank you so much," I say as I wrap my arms around his neck for a hug.

He returns the hug with one arm that easily stretches across my back. "Yeah, well you do this job, you bound to get hurt all the time," he says. "Just be careful."

"Okay, but thanks for saving me, too," I smile. "I didn't like it in there at all. It was painful," I confess softly.

"It's okay," he replies, "you're safe now. Nothing's gonna hurt you, I promise." He holds me even tighter with both arms around me now. He tucks his head into my neck but I don't protest. I feel a sense of safety and comfort wash over me. I'm still here. I'm still with the best company I have ever had in my entire life. I'm still living alongside two men who are the best big brothers anybody can have. I am reminded once again, that aside from mum and dad who are half across the world and probably dead, they are my family. Finally, Dean lets go. His eyes are red and there is sadness oozing them.

I cock my head to one side. "Dean?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you crying?"

"No, I'm not," he says defensively. "I don't cry. Crying is for wussies."

I giggle. "You are crying," I point out. "It's okay, men can cry, too."

He looks at me and smiles. "Really?"

"Of course, you have feelings, too," I reason out. "Why are you crying though?"

He shrugs and sighs before looking at me sadly. "Because I just realized you're family now," he answers. "And I can't bear to lose you or let anything hurt you."

I lift the corners of my lips in a small smile. I look down my wrist where my lucky bracelet is hanging just above the white gauze. I untied its knot and let it fall off its place where it has been for years now. I take his hand and tie my bracelet around his wrist.

"What are you doing?" He asks.

"I just wanted to give you this," I say. I look fondly at the blue bracelet with its black border. I made it myself, working for hours tying knots to form the arrow pattern on it. "It's for strength," I explain. "It kept me going for years now, hasn't failed me yet. Wear this," I look into his green eyes, "and you'll never lose me."

He looks at me and smiles again. "Thanks, it means a lot. But what about you? Think you can survive without it?"

"I'll be fine," I grin. "I've got you guys."

The door opens and Sam appears with two bags of what smells like fast food and a tray of drinks. We look up at him struggling with the door. He looks at us and lifts both arms.

"Are you guys gonna help me or what?"

Dean tells me to lay off the strained foot and he goes to help Sam close the door. Sam sets the food down on the table and passes the food out. Each of us gets a drink, a burger and a packet of chips each. Time and again they tell me that it's called fries but old habits die hard and I still call them chips.

"What's in that bag?" I point to the small plastic bag that Sam did not acknowledge.

"Oh, some meds for you," he answers. He takes one bottle out after another, reading off the labels. "These are painkillers, these are for headaches and these are for that lovely throat of yours that will lose its voice soon."

I didn't notice how bad my throat has become until he pointed it out. "Thanks," I smile. I take a sip of the cold soda in my paper cup. I finish half of it in one gulp because it's the first drink I've had since I was kidnapped so many nights ago. I hadn't noticed how hungry I am and I finish my food before they even had time to unwrap theirs. I take a pill out of each of the three bottles Sam bought for me and downed them with my remaining gulp of soda. The effects of a full stomach and the medicines came immediately and I lean back on my bed. I feel drowsy again and maybe a little bit drunk with satisfaction. I smile dreamily at the TV playing some soppy soap opera.

"By the way," I speak up after a few minutes of silent eating. "How long was I gone?"

Sam and Dean look at me. "Five days," Dean answers. "It took a while to hunt you down. Why?"

"Just asking."

**This is my favourite chapter in this section of the Saga. I just love it when Dean's older brother instincts kick in and he just cares for everybody and makes sure they're okay. The big brother vibes I get from Sam and Dean are the reason I wrote this thing in the first place. Also I wan't Dean to finally be able to fix up at least one person he loves to somehow ease the guilt of letting the demons get to her. The poor man needs a break from all that pain and sorrow.**

**Also a little side note, I'm going to be having this little author's note thing going on because I really like share my thoughts about everything. All the bolded words are Author's Notes and I will not slot one in in the the middle of the passage because I find that really annoying. :)**


	7. Chapter 7

Having me being bedridden for a day or two, the boys decide not leave town for a while. My wounds are healing and every time I take the bandages off to clean them, the bruises fade a bit more and the cuts become scabs that fade away too. The wound on my head seems to be the worst aside from my ankle. I have been smashing that part of my head into the chair they tied me in every time I received a blow to my head. Now, there is a large white line at the side of my head starting from my temple traveling down just above my ear. It no longer hurts but it doesn't look nice. After I get dressed, I let Dean or Sam wrap up my ankle for me while I do my wrist and chest wounds that still look a bit like they've been mauled by something wild.

A week later, Sam is out on a coffee run and I walk around the room to exercise my ankle. It still hurts a bit but I'm fighting the pain. I still walk with a limp and wince every once in a while but manage to muster up enough pride to cover up for it. I pace back and forth until my ankle decides to give way with every other step.

"Hey," Dean says, looking up from his browsing on the internet. "Lay off the foot."

"It doesn't hurt," I lie indignantly before toppling over.

"You're falling over while standing," he remarks, scowling. "You better sit down before I make you sit down."

I raise my hands up and say, "Okay, okay, I'm sitting." I plop down on my bed and look at him. "Happy now?"

He grunts before looking back at his laptop. I stretch my legs in front of me and flex my ankle. I do it gingerly, trying to force it to go all the way down. I lift it back up again and rotate it clockwise and anti-clockwise. My face screws up in a grimace as the pain registers in my brain.

Sam comes back with a tray of coffee and tea in one hand. I tried American coffee once but didn't like it. It was watery and bland compared to what I was used to so I stick to my preference of tea because they leave the teabag in there and I have some control over how strong I want my drink.

Sam sits and waves the newspaper he had under his arm when he came in. "I found something interesting," he announces.

I look up from my tea and Dean answers something vague. He seems a bit too sucked into whatever is onscreen at the moment. I assume it's some website that I'm not allowed to go on to yet, if you get my drift.

"Dean," Sam calls out to get his attention. "Dean, we got a case."

"Hmm, what?"

Sam looks at me with an expression that tells me that he, too, knows what Dean is looking at and he is about to take no more of Dean's browsing habits. I giggle and Dean looks confused. Sam reads out the news of a case and they decide to look into it. We pack to leave for the next state which I have completely given up hope of ever remembering. There are fifty states in this one country and you're expected to remember them all. Sam and Dean try and teach me through Goggle Maps and I'm slowly getting it, but the progress is slow and daunting.

When we set out for the car, I get up and walk by myself before any of them can offer me a helping hand. I still need my pride intact and this messed up ankle isn't doing me any justice. I ignore the little shocks of pain that come with each step and march out with my chin in the air.

"I can walk," I tell them as if proving a point. Both of them only look at me, each with an eyebrow raised and flanking the door of the motel room. I barely make it to them when my foot loses all sensation and I tip over one side. Dean catches me and rolls his eyes. "Maybe I can't walk still," I admit.

Dean sighs and repositions his bag so he can support me better. Sam's face seems to be fighting between laughing and looking confused. As a result, his lip twitches and his eyes narrow. Dean leads me out into the Impala before taking my bag from me and putting it in the trunk. Everyone gets in and the car's engine starts.

"Better make yourselves comfortable," Dean remarks. "It's going to be a long drive."

During the drive, Dean plays some out dated rock songs that, I admit, are cool tunes but get a bit noisy sometimes. Dean enjoys it, obviously. He dances in his seat and taps the steering wheel as he sings on the top of his voice (a little off key and off rhythm). With his hair disheveled by the wind and heavy rock songs that match with the engine sounds of the car, Dean is on cloud nine. Even a blind man can tell you that.

Sam, who sits shotgun, doesn't appreciate the in-car entertainment as much as Dean. He looks out the window most of the time. Other times, he sleeps or tries to. Dean's voice and music is loud enough to deafen even the strongest of ears, making it very hard to fall asleep unless you are just too exhausted. When I'm well rested, I like giving Sam a hard time, too. Whenever I get to sit shotgun while he tries to sleep in the back, Dean and I sing the most obnoxious of songs as loud as our throats allow. Despite all this, we all still love each other. I think.

I spend a couple of hours studying the pendant hanging off my neck during long rides. I have studied it for so long so many times that I can recreate every tiny scratch and discoloured patch without looking at it. I still find it fascinating even after all these years. It is a part of me that I can never part with. The leather cord it is hanging on is relatively newer than the pendant because I had it redone throughout the years whenever it gets too worn or too short for my growing stages.

The bronze circle sits comfortably in the middle of my palm. This pentagram is not the plain one with a star in it that you see in costume jewelry shops. This is one has a gem in its centre that is never the same colour twice and its circle has some characters inscribed on all around it. It's quite unique and I have yet to see one like it. If you look through all my photos, all of them feature this little thing around my neck. After staring at the little gem for a while, I get bored from trying to figure out the characters orbiting the star and look up at the two brothers in the front seat.

"Can I learn how to drive?" I pipe up when Dean is finally quiet and Sam is awake.

"Why?" Dean asks.

"Because I don't know how to drive and I want to."

"When are you gonna ever drive?" Dean scowls.

I shrug, "I don't know, I was going to ask you that, too." I wait for a while before continuing, "Maybe I can take shifts too. That way, we travel further, take less rest stops, and we get there faster."

Sam looks at Dean. "She has a point."

Dean sighs, looking out orange lit road. "Alright," he says grudgingly, "Sammy will teach you. If I find a scratch on the car, I'm not letting either of you in the driver's seat ever again, you hear me?"

"Okay," I answer cheerily.

Dean loves his car too much, it's funny. He hardly ever means the never letting us touch the car again thing. During some crazier jobs, the car has been through a lot and Sam gets all sorts of death threats thrown at him. So far, none of them has been carried out yet. He just wants us to be careful.

I lie down on the back row and close my eyes. I am about to drift off to sleep when Sam asks out of the blue, "When's your birthday?"

"Why are you asking?" I open one eye to stare at the ceiling.

"Just curious," he says. "And also I realized we don't actually know a lot about you."

I count off with one hand and answer, "Exactly two months ago."

"Oh," he replies awkwardly. "Sorry."

I smile, "What's there to be sorry about? I didn't tell you, so it's not your fault you missed it."

He chuckles.

"Just," I cut in. "If you forget it next year, I won't forgive you."

"Of course," Sam answers. "But I still feel bad. It was your sweet sixteen, right?"

"After what I've been through," I close my eyes and reply, "It's been anything but sweet. I spent the night of my birthday in a vampire's lair where they nearly turned me, remember? I should've known it was a sign."

I've fallen asleep and am woken up by the slamming of car doors and conversation. I sit up and rake my fringe backwards and out from my face. The car is parked at the side of the road and Sam and Dean get up to exchange places. Dean then pops his head into the backseat and looks at me. "You wanted to learn how to drive?" He cocks his head in the direction of the driver's seat. "Go get in the front." He gets in the back as soon as I get out and mumbles something about needing sleep.

I walk hesitantly to the driver's seat and get in. I look at Sam who gives me an encouraging look. I feel intimidated by the wheel in front of me, how large the bonnet of the car looks and the manual gear shift. I never understood those things, now it seems I have to.

"Ready to start?" Sam asks.

I nod. He points out everything that needs to be taken notice of and he ticks off each pedal and what they're for and when to press them. I try to remember everything he says, resorting to taking down notes with a pen and my forearm. Even when Sam explains over and over again, I still can't wrap my head around the gear shift rules.

"Are we still not driving yet?" Dean's voice comes out from behind.

"Shut up, Dean," I say.

"We can start driving now," Sam says.

I look at him shocked, "What? No, I'm not ready yet."

"Yes, you are," he assures me. "It's pretty simple once you start."

He coaxes me step by step to get the car back on the road. Thankfully the road is fairly quiet at this time of night. I slowly build up confidence as I drive on the smooth road listening Sam's careful instructions. Soon, I fall in love with the thrill of driving.

**The starting part where Smug, Protective Dean is in play is cool. Then the Sam/Pierce driving lesson thing is just a little thing inspired by that one time Sam taught Adam how to use a gun during the show. I liked giving Sam a chance to be a big brother because he needs a break from the babying he gets from Dean and he sure as heck is capable enough to be a big brother. Also I wrote this having driving feels (I really want to learn how to drive but my licence is two years away, sigh) I hope you enjoyed it.**


	8. Chapter 8

After an hour or so of smooth driving, I get the hang of it and Sam has to pry my fingers off the wheels when he tells me to get some rest and let him take over. At last, I ride shot gun and he gets his drive. We talk a bit, enjoying the sunrise up ahead.

"How are you coping with this life so far?" Sam asks. "I guess it's a big jump for you."

I lean against the car window which is up because it's raining at the moment. I chuckle wryly, "A big jump is an understatement. I shifted countries in a blink of an eye. It doesn't get any bigger than that." I pause before continuing, "This life isn't easy with all its blood and gore, but it's something I can get used to. At least I get to save people."

"Really?" He raises his eyebrows. "From my experience, this is not a glamorous life to live. I mean, you just got abducted and tortured a little more than a week back. Doesn't that affect you?"

I smile sadly and reply, "I suppose it's not always sunshine and flowers but it's just the Key I have been cursed with. I just have to live with it, I guess. Keep fighting. My Dad always says to keep facing forwards and never look back, so that's what I'm gonna do." I shrug, "Besides the fact that I'm now a high school dropout not that it really matters, I'm dead back home, being out of school isn't so bad."

Sam chuckles and guesses, "Tough crowds?"

I count off with my fingers as I list off, "Bullies, Jessie, jerks, jocks, Jessie, social anxieties, teasing, no friends, Jessie, school in general, demanding school teachers and did I mention this girl Jessie?"

"Who's she? You don't seem to like her very much," Sam observes.

I shrug, "She broke into my house that night, demon possessed and I couldn't tell the difference." I sigh, remembering my last life. "On the best days, she would leave me alone and probably stare at me or something. Other times," I look at him, "It's unbearable." I chuckle half-heartedly once more before saying, "Enough about my life, and what about you?"

He hesitates before answering, "I've been through a lot. Dean and I grew up in this business. Our dad taught us everything and when he thought we were old enough, he left us his journal with everything he knows in it. Dean worshipped our dad and followed him as close as he could. I wanted a normal life, so I went to college and had a girlfriend and everything but things didn't go as planned."

I nod, knowing better than to ask what happened to his tertiary studies. "At least you were prepared for this life," I mutter.

He shakes his head, "With this lifestyle, you're never prepared for anything. There's always something new, something terrifying…. Something painful." He looks at me and I can see the blue of the dawn skies reflect in his eyes.

"You've seen a lot," I state, turning back to watch the pink skies, "the both of you. I mean, I don't know how old you guys are. Physically, you guys are fit and at the prime of your life. I personally believe that the eyes are the windows to your souls and both your souls are wise, aged and tired."

He nods, "Dean and I have literally gone to hell and back before. We've seen everyone we have ever loved die and if we're lucky, we watch them die several times. It's like we're cursed or something."

I give a half smile, "Well, I have lost both my parents, who are possibly the only people I ever loved, in one night. Maybe it's nothing compared to what you've been through but hey, it's the past. You can remember it but don't get lost in it." I look down at my pendant that I seem to have been toying with unconsciously. "Looking back, I'm glad I followed you crazy monkeys. We fight sometimes and we are definitely not living the high life, but we get to have our fun and I really like having fun with you guys."

Sam laughs, "I think that's because we let you drink beer."

"And you two still can't beat me at drinking games," I mock. "Seriously though, you guys are amazing people whether or not you think you are. I mean, you're the best family I've ever had. You're like these two big brothers to me. I've always wanted a big brother that kicks ass and now I have two," I say as I watch his smile get wider even though he fights it.

"Thanks," he says after a long pause. "Actually, how do you keep your liquor down? I mean, I can drink some and Dean once drank vodka like it was water but still we can't beat you."

I laugh, "I'll tell you my secret." I lean in and hold the tension on for as long as I can before stage whispering, "It's in my blood." Sam scoffs in disbelief and I say, "It's true! It runs in my mother's side. My grandfather and his brothers will empty out any restaurant's inventory. I can't beat them though, the blood gets tarnished as it goes on."

We have a moment of silence before Sam speaks up again. "Why did you follow us in the first place? I mean, before your dad told you about the whole Summoning Key thing? You could have just run away that first day, but you didn't."

"Gut instinct?" I shrug jokingly, "Or maybe I get to follow two good looking men around town so I stayed." I shake my head. "I'm not sure," I start, "but I think it all has to do with that angel that came down and brought me here in the first place. Things happen for a reason, so I guess I just went with the flow. My mother always said the angels will watch over us, I just had to keep the faith."

"Faith?" He huffs. "You still have faith?"

"Of course," I say. "Without faith, where would you be?"

"I think lost my faith a long way back," he says. "Through my thirty-one years of life, faith hasn't done much for me. You trust someone and they turn out to be backstabbers or they take advantage of you."

"At least now I know how old you are," I comment to lighten the mood. "How old is he, then?" I cock my head to the back seat.

"Thirty-five, but the way he acts sometimes," Sam smiles and shakes his head. "You'd think the thirty is silent."

I smile. "I disagree about you losing your faith," I tell him.

"Why do you say that?" He asks.

"I've seen you and your brother in action," I say. "You may not have much hope for the rest of the world, but one thing you still hold to is him and vice versa. There's where your faith lies, in family. Everybody needs faith. Without it, we will just wander aimlessly on earth or just die."

He gives a small laugh and a nod. "Are you sure you're only sixteen? You've told me something wiser than any older people have given to me."

I chuckle, "Last I checked, yes I am. Let's talk about something less depressing, it's a new day and I don't wanna spoil it with morbid topics."

"Okay," he laughs. "What do you want to talk about?"

I tap my index finger on my chin thoughtfully. "I want to find out more about you two. Your birthdays, full names, favourite colours, everything."

**Ok, this ending is a bit weird. think of it as those conversations where the car just drive into the sunset kind of thing. There was more to it but I didn't like how it went so I cut it all out. But okay.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Ok, so I've just edited my drafts again and it seems like Part 2 of the Another World Saga is going to be insanely long and I apologise for the really bad pacing. I just wanted to put in a little adventure so that it is made clear that their lives don't revolve around babysitting Pierce and trying to not get her kidnapped again. The next few Chapters are going to be unrelated to the main plot line of the story but it does add some spice into the mix...**

We stop to have breakfast then head for the car again, the chilly morning fast becoming warm. It's heading closer and closer to the hottest part of the year. I now only wear one layer of clothes and my denim shorts until I soil it and have to wash it.

"How much longer do we have until we reach the place?" I ask as we get back in the car with Dean in the driver's seat, Sam riding shotgun and me in between.

"Another hour or two," Dean answers.

This case is about a school in the town we're headed to. Its students seem to go missing at rather regular intervals. Nothing connects these students together apart from them coming from this particular school. The missing students are normally dismissed as them running away by the media. Now we are going to the school to see if the missing person's cases have anything to do with the supernatural. That's what we do, look for the supernatural and stop them from harming the rest of the world. It is heroic sounding, but dirty and bloody in reality.

We reach the school and park in the visitor's parking. Students walk past and ogle at our vintage little car. I agree, it does make quite a statement when it drives round. Also, it is not that little, taking up the entire parking lot and making the pick-up truck on our right look small. The looks on the students' faces when they see the Impala make me gloat with pride because I get to ride it while they can all stand by and let us through.

After we park the car, we head up into the building and to the reception. The receptionist smiles at us and I can see an odd, inquiring look in her eyes. It looks like she assumed something that is out of social norms. Dean smiles his winning smile at the receptionist and greets her.

"Are you here to sign your daughter up for school next year?" The lady asks. She had glasses hanging off the tip of her nose and she is dressed in a grey blazer and a matching pencil skirt. She smiles politely at Dean.

"Yeah, we'd like to check out the school," Dean explains. "We just moved into town and I'm looking for a school for my, uh," he looks at me oddly, "daughter."

The receptionist looks at me with a few questions brewing inside her. I stare back at her like a deer in headlights. There you have a good example of my social abilities. No wonder I was shunned in school last time. I may have a smart mouth in front of demons but humans just scare me. My throat is dry and my jaws are clamped shut.

The receptionist looks back at him and then at Sam, then at me again. "Oh, of course. Just write your name here, please and the principal will be with you shortly." She looks at us weirdly again before disappearing into the office.

"What name did you put down there?" I ask him, curious. I walk up to the clipboard the receptionist gave him and read the entire list just because. I see Dean's handwriting at the bottom of the page and it is signed Dean Winchester. "Why did you write your own name? Isn't it dangerous?"

"It's harmless," he shrugs.

"The principal will see you now, Mr. Winchester," she announces.

We follow her into the office where a rather round looking man is sitting behind a desk. He stands up to shake hands with Sam and Dean. Dean is doing most of the talking at this point, Sam preferring to stand in the back quietly studying the principal's office. I am aware of my rather sour and anxious expression that I can't hide because of the looming fact that I am once again surrounded by people my age.

"Good morning," The principal greets, a smile spreading above grey fuzz. "I'm Mr. Fitzgerald, the school principal."

"Nice to meet you," Dean greets back politely. "We just moved into town not too long ago, and we have to get her into school."

"Ah, this must be your daughter," he says and gestures to the empty chair next to where Dean is sitting. "Come, sit."

He looks at Sam and Sam says he'll stand by the door. I see the odd look on Mr. Fitzgerald's face when he scrutinizes us. Great, I realize, they think I'm an adopted daughter of a gay couple. It's hilarious that Dean doesn't see this yet. Sam is just sulking at the back looking at everything around him.

"How old are you?" Mr. Fitzgerald asks me.

I look him in the eye and notice his steely grey eyes that match his hair and moustache. "Sixteen, sir," I answer quieter than I would've liked.

"Ah, so it's sophomore year for you, eh?" He chuckles and reminds me of Santa Claus.

I nod, clueless to whatever he was talking about. He talks a bit about the school and its grounds and its facilities. He hands us a copies of timetables, extra-curricular activities and a map of the school. Apparently, it's a big school with a large number of students in its many blocks and the only public school in the entire town. I read the contents of the pamphlets while Dean handles the principal.

After explaining everything, Mr. Fitzgerald gets up and gives us a tour of the place. Dean hands Sam the softly beeping EMF device in his hand and Sam pockets it without Mr. Fitzgerald seeing. Dean walks beside the principal as he introduces the many rooms and spaces. Dean asks some questions and I just look around at the students doing their own things.

It's a very new environment for me because no one here is wearing any uniform. There seems to be no regulation on hairstyles or painted nails. There are student walking around with bright coloured hair that cannot be natural. Flashy accessories and stylish hair are paraded along with fashion that is occasionally skimpy.

People start to look at us as we walk past and I feel a nervousness I haven't had in a long time. I reach for my wrist but only feel my skin and some scabs left over from the chains. The weightlessness on my wrist makes me regret taking off the bandages before coming in. Looking for my other source of strength, I reach for my pendant and toy with it. I hurry up ahead to catch up with the three men, sticking as close to Dean as I can without looking like a five year old. I justify it by saying it because I don't want to get lost, but who am I bluffing?

Sam looks up from consulting the device to see me in my weakest state. He gives me a puppy dog stare full of concern and I shake my head, telling him it's nothing. He gives me another long look before turning back to the beeping. So far, it's been steady. No signs of ghosts anywhere.

I follow along for a short distance before something stops me in my tracks. I sense someone staring at me. Everyone is staring, really, but this one feels different. Whoever it is has been staring for a long time. I turn around and look across the busy hallway. There, a boy stands leaning against the wall. He seems to have a lean build and a confident air. His soft, golden hair glints in the light and he has eyes so blue I can see it from here. He is unabashedly staring at me and when I catch his eye, he winks with a sly smile.

I am stunned because no one has ever given me that kind of attention before. I look down in shyness and study my boots. I look back up again and he is still there with his charming smile of white, straight teeth. I think I feel myself blush but I cannot delve deeper into the situation.

"Pierce?" Dean calls from a little lane where they have gone into. "Are you coming?"

"Yeah," I answer and walk towards the three waiting men.

Dean doesn't look away from me as I approach so I meet his gaze questioningly. He looks to the blond boy then back at me with an odd look. "Were you flirting with that boy?" He asks in a hushed tone.

I reply, "No, I wasn't. I just caught him staring at us."

"Or you," he suggests.

I scoff at the possibility, but my cheeks burn all the same. "Don't be stupid," I mutter. "Let's get this over with, I don't like the attention."

He chuckles before laying a hand on my shoulder and walking me to the office where we finish off our tour of the place. More niceties and 'hope to see you here in September' talk before Dean finally gets down to business.

"Listen," He says. "I am truly thinking of putting her in here, but I have heard some news about some kids missing. Do you know what's behind all of it?"

Mr. Fitzgerald loses his happy smile and looks a bit worried. "What about them?"

"Nothing," Dean shrugs. "I just want to know if I'm leaving my girl in safe hands for five days in a week."

Mr. Fitzgerald tries for a reassuring smile, but fails. He says, "We are not proud of it, but students do have their groups of friends and some are less healthy for teenagers. The students all play truant and decide to run off. I'm sure your lovely daughter would have better sense than to do that."

"Okay," Dean says, obviously not getting what he wants. "Thanks for your time."

"Remember, school starts in September," Mr. Fitzgerald says, sitting back in his chair. "I really do look forward to seeing you here next year," he smiles at me.

**Ooh, who is this interesting fellow? Just imagine Sterling Knight playing the Mystery guy because that's what I did. Mmm, Sterling Knight. I wonder how yummy is he now?**


	10. Chapter 10

**The starting of this chapter is a light little thing where I give Dean back the youthfulness he lost when he turned 30. This grumpy old man is going to be the death of me. He needs to smile and joke around a bit. I like the ever growing crinkles at the corner of his eyes so here I am to let him have a chance to show them again.**

"Dean, what're you doing?"

I hear someone's hushed voice ask. Then I hear some hissing noises nearer to me and then an exasperated sigh.

"I just want to see if I can scare her," The nearer voice says.

I can feel his breath blow softly against my cheek. I think he laughs because puffs of air come out and tickle my skin. He is really close, probably right next to my face. I can actually feel his warmth radiating off on one side of me.

I groan and mumble, "Dean, I know exactly where you are and I'm going to punch you in the nose."

Dean laughs and I open my eyes. I am greeted by bright green eyes that are crinkled at the corners. He smiles even wider when I groan and hide my face in my pillow. Sam sighs and I can imagine the look on his face, knowing that his older brother has the mentality of a six year old.

"Good morning, sunshine," He announces while tapping on my back. "Go get cleaned up and get dressed. We have a school to break into."

I groan into the pillow. "I am definitely not a morning person," I declare.

"Then good thing it's not morning," Dean laughs. "Seriously, get dressed. We're going out."

I get up and realize he is telling the truth about it not being morning. On the contrary, it's almost nightfall. I brush my hair and tie it into a high ponytail. I wear my jeans and black hoodie, leaving my shorts and plaids in my bag. I stuff one of the pamphlets I was going through earlier into my pocket. It has the map around the school. I think it will come in handy later. We pull up beside the school when it's dark and Dean opens the trunk of the car.

"Alright, let's see what we're gonna need," He says before diving into his ill-organised equipment. He pulls out a chain cutter, bullet cartridges and a semi-automatic pistol. He puts everything into his pockets except the pistol, which he loads and hands it in my direction.

I look at him and he shrugs, "You might need it." This is the first time he has let me touch a gun other than when I learn how to use them. He holds the silver thing up and I take it from him. It feels heavy when I pocket it but reassuring. We get a torch each and walk towards the school.

The front doors are locked by heavy chains which Dean cuts through and leaves clanking to the cement floor. Inside, the halls are dark aside from the moonlight shining in from one end. We walk in and shine a light around to make sure we're alone. Sam leads the way to the place he found. The building is big and there are many staircases that lead everywhere. Soon, we are lost.

"Dude, where are we?" Dean asks. "I think we've already been here."

"I know where I'm going, okay? Just hold on," Sam says.

"We're lost, aren't we?" I demand. Sam just shrugs. I whip out the map I brought with me and wave it in their faces. "I think this might help."

I grip my torch with my teeth as I unfold the map and let them they pin point where it is they want to go. They locate the place and we head there. We've lost enough time getting lost and we need to find out what's going on. We are stopped in our tracks by the sound of voices echoing down the hall. We ready our pistols before we realize that the voices belong to a group of students. We hide behind doors and turn off our lights. The students walk past without knowing of our presence. One of them walks dangerously close to my hiding spot and I hold my breath until he walks away.

When they are at a comfortable distance, Dean signals to follow them and we do. They seem to be walking towards the room we were looking for, only they seem to know where they're going. They talk in hushed but upbeat voices as they pick the lock and enter the room. They leave the door open and we walk in. The room is not so much a room than another hallway. It looks like the others in the school but rundown with graffiti all over the walls. The voices of the students fade and we are left alone in the strange place.

"Was the room locked when you found it?" I ask, turning on my torch and shining it on the door, noticing its worn wood left unpainted and unkempt on the inside.

"Well," Sam answers. "It was painted to be part of the wall when I first saw it."

"Must be some closed off and forbidden place then, if students are so eager to come in here," I observe. "They like to leave their marks, too." I am referring to the names and dates spray painted everywhere. I don't remember this on the map, maybe they didn't want people knowing about it. "Do you think it's haunted?"

Dean scoffs, "That's probably what the seniors tell the freshmen and bully them into coming here."

"Yeah," I reason. "But most of the folk's tales turns out to be true, don't they?"

Dean doesn't answer and I take that as an agreement. "Also, your school system is just weird. What are sophomores and freshmen?" I complain.

Shrieking comes from down the walkway where the students went. We wield our guns and run to see what's happening. We dart down the hall and get to a dead end. There is nobody there. No sign of the group of teenagers that came in here.

"Hello?" Dean calls out. "Does anybody need help?"

Nothing. No sound, no rustling of rubbish against the floor, just quietness. I shine my torch around to see if there was any other clue that the students didn't just vanish into thin air. I hit something that glistens darkly in the light. I focus on it and blood drains from my face.

"Guys, I found something," I say.

It is blood, lots of it. There are splatters that spray up higher than I am tall and red tracks line the wall. The tracks lead to a door where it disappears behind.

"Whoever left the trail was dragged in here," I observe. "This is only one track though. Do you guys see where the others went?"

"No," Sam says. "I got nothing. Dean?"

"Nada. So you think they went in there?"

"Looks like it," I say.

"Okay, stand back," Dean warns before kicking the door open. He leads the way into the room and shines his torch around to see if the coast is clear.

Inside is an abandoned classroom, tables and chairs are strewn across the place. Other than the old furniture, there only are a few skeletons on display. Dean takes some interest in the skeletons while Sam and I look for the victims.

"Hey, do these skeletons look new to you?" Dean asks.

"I don't know," I answer tersely. "I don't want to look at them."

"You're such a wussy," He chuckles but he stops immediately after. "Guys," he calls out, "Feel the bones, they're warm."

"I think I'll just take your words for it, thank you," I answer curtly, focusing on anything but the skeleton displays.

Sam and I turn to him. "It's summer, maybe it's just the weather," Sam reasons.

"Oh yeah?" Dean challenges the notion. "The tables are cold, the wind is drafty and…."

He trails off and a shocked look registers on his face when he looks at something behind me. "Get down!" I duck and he shoots.

I turn around in time to see some smoke blow up in my face. I look to him and he has panic in his eyes.

"Let's get out of here," he says. I couldn't agree with him more.

We duck out of the school and into the car. Dean guns the engine and we speed back to the motel. The sun is starting to rise and cars are heading towards the school. I don't know if I'm the only one among us who didn't see the scary thing creeping up on me just now but Sam's face seems to confirm it.

"What was that?" I ask when we get back to the motel.

"Spirit," Dean answers, "ugly thing. You don't like moving rotten bodies, right?"

"I have a low tolerance, maybe," I say, trying to sustain my pride.

"Good thing you didn't see it, then," Dean says. "Now, at least we know what to do."

"What's that?"

"Torch its remains," he answers simply.

"Oh, that's simple," I scoff.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He takes offense.

"Where are its remains, Dean? Do you know?"

"We just saw the bones," he raises his voice. "They're hanging right there! It's very straightforward, if you ask me."

"No," I say firmly. "Those are not the remains of the ghost."

"How would you know? You didn't even see the thing!"

"Because there are many skeletons," I explain. "I don't think that's the ghost. Anyway, you said they were new, it couldn't have been the ghost."

Dean stares at me incredulously. "So you think there's another one?"

I nod, "There's an old skeleton in the biology lab. It's ancient and it might be the one we're looking for."

"The only question now is why it is going around collecting new skeleton displays," Sam speaks up.

We look at each other with a knowing look. We have research to do.

**Okay, so maybe Pierce is a little short tempered in this one. But let me tell you that she is freaking out and her nerves are shot, so yeah. She is so panicky that her brain doesn't even know what going on right now. Therefore the unexplained fight picking here. And yes, I did just kill of like five stupid teenagers in one go.**


	11. Chapter 11

**This chapter is a little bit longer than the others because I can't find a suitable place to end it. Ugh, research but somebody is going to be making a guest appearance in this episode. Enjoy! :)**

We find the local library and ask for old news and local myths. I scour the shelves for books on local history while Dean and Sam get the newspaper archives. We find a table large enough for us and I lay down the tall stack of books I found. We read through everything thoroughly but cannot find anything. It is past noon and I start to feel a bit strained. I get a mild headache that intensifies and I clutch my head in my hands. A familiar white flash blinds me before I come back to my senses.

"Pierce?" Dean asks when he and Sam notice my strange behavior. "Are you okay?"

I look at him and nod distractedly, "I'm fine. I just need to get some coffee."

He nods tentatively, "Okay." I turn to leave but he stops me. "Wait," he hands me the silver pistol I used yesterday, "just to be safe."

I raise an eyebrow. "I'm just going to the vending machine outside," I say.

"Yeah, the last time we left you alone, you were kidnapped by the king of hell," he makes a point. "It's for safety reasons. If someone jumps you, shoot first and ask questions later."

I take the gun and pocket it before anyone else sees it. Feeling a bit foolish to be carrying a gun just to get a drink, I walk off. Outside the large wooden doors of the library, there is a vending machine selling canned drinks in the reception. Fishing out my wallet, I make my choice of drink and feed a dollar note into the machine. As I turn around with my can of cold coffee in hand, I nearly go head first into someone. I apologize and look up at the rather tall person. He looks vaguely familiar, but I can't seem to pin point where I've seen him before.

"Hey, you're the new girl, right?" He asks.

I look into his crystal blue eyes and say, "Yeah, I guess." Who is this creepy dude?

"You really don't remember me?" He chuckles. "I thought we had a thing going on that time. I saw you with the two guys following Mr. Fizzy around yesterday."

"Uh," I hesitate. My tongue seems to have gone to lead and my throat is dry. I take a sip from my can of coffee.

He sticks out his hand, "I'm Brendon. What's your name?"

"Pierce," I answer, shaking his hand.

"Great, now we know each other," he smiles, showing his white teeth. "How come I never see you around town?"

"My family and I move around a lot," I say. "It's my dad's work. He needs to travel."

"Ah, I see," Brendon says. "You know, you seem to steal the spotlight rather easily. Ever since you came yesterday, there were rumours about 'the new girl'. Word in the hall is that you'll be starting school here. When are you starting, anyway?"

"After the summer," I answer. Truth is, I won't be starting anything anytime soon and neither do I want to.

"Great," Brendon says. "You can come hang out with me and my gang and I'll show you the ropes then."

"Thanks," I say. For someone who was complemented by the king of hell for having a sharp tongue, I sure don't have a tongue now.

"A pretty little exotic thing like you is bound to catch a lot of attention. I just don't want you to get lost or anything." He smiles down at me flirtatiously. "Also I want to be the first one to get to know the pretty new girl."

Ok, so I think I'm being hit on. This is weird. Back home, everyone ignores me. I'm no beauty queen, no sight for sore eyes. This attention is pleasant but pressurizing at the same time. I laugh at his cheeky attempts. "Okay," I mumble meekly.

"So," he starts awkwardly, "You came with your, uh, dads?"

My suspicions were true, the school did think that Dean and Sam are gay. I chuckle softly and shake my head. "No, they're brothers," I explain.

"Oh sorry for asking, that was really uncomfortable," he chuckles. "There are a lot of rumours flying around. I just wanted to make sure."

"It's okay," I brush off the odd question as best as I could with my leaden tongue and dry throat. "But you're okay with gay people?"

Brendon shrugs, "The world is changing. There will be more gays than straight people, soon."

I chuckle before realizing the golden opportunity I have been given. Summoning up the courage to speak, I force my vocal chords to work. "I've been reading the papers, there seems to have a few people gone missing in the school. Do you know anything about them?"

He shrugs, "The authorities say it's just that the students decided to run off on their own. That's it. Why do you ask?"

"I don't know, I'm just nosy," I say, trying a wry smile.

"Every school has its own myths and legends," Brendon sighs. "Ours is really stupid. It's just something to scare the freshmen."

"Really?" I ask, leaning against the pillar opposite the vending machine and trying to look laid back.

"Yeah, they say there is this hidden passage way that if you go into something will kill you and use you as skeleton displays for the biology lab," Brendon says. "It's really stupid, actually. The school doesn't have hidden passages, the most secretive thing there is the old door they closed up after renovating the place twenty years ago or something. You don't believe ghost stories, do you?"

I shrug. I have heard legitimate lore and stories about ghosts, pagan gods and more but I also have heard enough sham. Like that time Dean crushed my hopes and dreams by telling me that there are no such things as unicorns and dragons or even Bigfoot. I walked around like a deflated balloon for the rest of the day then.

There is a silence after I shrugged before Brendon asks me, "Do you want to go for a walk or something? The weather is great outside."

I was thinking of an answer but before I could answer, Dean bursts out of the door looking for me. He sees me and raises an eyebrow. He gestures for me to come in. I nod to acknowledge him before turning back to Brendon.

"I'm sorry, I have to go," I tell Brendon as I walk backwards toward Dean.

"It's fine," he says. "So I'll see you around? Maybe next time I can get you to talk more," he gives me a slanted smile.

"Yeah, okay," I manage before breaking into a jog to get back to Dean and return to people who I can talk to. He looks at me with concern written all over his face. The concern is stern and almost father-like. I have seen that expression in my father's eyes before when I get home from school after he does sometimes.

"I'm fine, Dean," I sigh. "No one tried to attack me. I was just talking to Brendon."

"He's that guy you were looking at last night, right? So you got a name now," Dean says looking at Brendon, who is walking away. "Nice to know," he mutters. "Get back inside. We still have a lot to cover."

I follow him in and sit down to drink my coffee which I have been holding onto for so long and have only taken a sip of. They continue to search through the old newspapers for more missing students. So far, they haven't got much.

I take a deep breath before interrupting their search. "Brendon told me something about the skeleton thing," I announce. Sam and Dean look up from their research.

"Who's Brendon?" Sam asks.

"Some pretty blond boy she found in the school yesterday," Dean says. He looks at me teasingly and I ignore his remarks. "What did he say?"

"There is a legend going around in the school that there is a hidden passage in the school," I start. "He says that whoever goes in would be taken and used as skeleton displays in the labs. Sounds uncanny, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, it does and today's news headline is a group of students reported missing by their parents," Sam reports. He shows us the photos of the three teenagers on the newspaper, "Their parents said that they must have sneaked out during the night. Do you think they're the ones we saw last night?"

"Maybe," I acknowledge. "Hopefully not but it seems like it. So they're dead, fancy telling their parents that."

"Good idea," Dean says.

"Tell them their children are dead?" Sam asks incredulously. "That's not a good idea."

"No, I mean we should ask their parents about them," Dean says. "Find out more about them. Let's go."

We make a copy of everything interesting they have found and return the originals before stuffing our bags full with notes and news reports. Sam manages to find the addresses of the missing students and we head off to the first house of three.

By late evening, we have finished with the questions and got nothing from the answers the parents have given. Giving up, we head to a diner for some food and drinks then back to the motel to finish the rest of our researching. I shower and freshen up before getting back to business. I count the hours since I last slept, which was yesterday evening. I have been awake for more than 24 hours now and I think it's taking its toll on me. I can't fight the yawns that escape as I shuffle through the information.

I take a turn at the laptop and search everything that comes to mind. Finally something catches my eye and I open the link to an old article. Beside the article are scary looking photos of a man, the victim and the crime scene.

It reads: "A professor is killed by his student in his office one night. The student was hurt, believed to have been in a fight with the professor before killing him. The student claims that the professor has been trying to kill students for tests and he was only acting in self-defense. The remains of the professor have been buried in Angel Cemetery."

"Hey, Dean?" I ask. "You know the ghost you saw last night?"

"Yeah, what about it?"

"Did it look like this guy?" I turn the screen around to show them the photo of professor.

A look of recognition sparks on both their faces. Dean asks about the photo and I tell them about the professor and his sick practices. It happened at the very same location back in the early 1900's. Since then, the crime scene has been closed up and forbidden.

"So we go and torch the bones and we're through," Dean says. "Come. Let's go while it's still dark."

We find the cemetery outside of town and we drive there. On the way, we drive past the school and I spot someone sneaking into the school. I squint in the dark light and see that it's Brendon. He looks scared and cautious as he breaks in.

"What's he doing there?" Dean mutters, seeing Brendon as well. "Hey, it's that boy of yours."

I ignore the last sentence and we park at one side to see what he is doing. He enters the building and turns on a small torch light he is holding. By the looks of things, he is going in unarmed and only with the clothes on his back.

I look to Dean, "Do you think we should follow him?"

He nods, "We probably should. Sammy, you deal with the bones. Pierce and I will see that that boy comes back out safe."

I check the silver pistol Dean gave me for bullets before pocketing it again. Dean gives me a sawn off shot gun from the trunk.

"Pistols don't work on spirits, you know that," Dean says.

I take the shotgun and hide it under the plaid shirt I now wear as a second layer. With so many things to keep in our pockets, I understand why they would wear at least two layers even under the sweltering sun. I take more rock salt bullets from Dean and we head into the school with only a duffel full of equipment. Sam drives off to the cemetery by himself in the Impala.

We walk to the hidden room just in time to see Brendon disappear behind it. We follow and track him down to where the dead end is. We hide from him and observe his movements. He looks lost and wary. Why is he here? Why is he alone? How do you even come in here unarmed?

He sees the door at the end and pushes it open gently. He shines a light into the room before walking in. Dean signals me and we get behind the door. I peek in to see Brendon exploring the place with its rusty tables and bones hanging by the corner. He notices the skeletons on their stands and studies them. I feel myself want to shout out to him because of the danger he is putting himself into.

He turns around sharply and I pull my head back to my hiding spot. "Hello?" He calls out as people in horror movies do. "Is anybody there?"

I roll my eyes at the stupidity of that action. Dean warns me to stay alert and I turn back to listen in on what's going on. I hear a gasp and the sound of something dropping. It must've been Brendon's torchlight as the room is now in total darkness. Dean braces himself to run in and I follow suit.

The loud yell for help is our cue and we run in. The gruesome looking ghost is standing above Brendon who is cowering on the ground. Dean shoots it and it disappears like mist. Making sure the place is safe, we check on Brendon who is shaking and breathing very hard.

"Pierce, is that you?" He pants. "What are you doing here?"

"It's okay, we're going to get you out of here," I tell him. "Are you hurt?"

"No, but what's going on?" Brendon looks at me but I don't answer.

"There's a vengeful ghost on the loose and you just walked right into its nest," Dean answers instead. "What were you thinking? Coming here on your own? Don't you know your own local lore?"

"Yeah, well I don't know," Brendon defends. "It's just that my friends went missing today and they told me that they were coming here last night. I just wanted to look for them."

"They're dead," Dean states simply. "Let's just get out," he says but is interrupted by a phone call. He picks it up and says, "You got the job done yet?"

I conclude that the caller is Sam. I watch Dean pace around as I kneel beside Brendon who is still struggling to find his bearings. Dean scowls after a few lines from the other side of the line.

"What do you mean it's not there? We're looking for a dead body, where can it possibly go?" He sighs. "Okay, fine, just come back to the school. We'll figure it out later." He looks at us and says unnecessarily, "The body's not in the grave. It's been dug out and taken from its casket."

"Where can it be?" I ask. "Why would anybody take him out?"

"I don't know, but we better keep a look out in case he comes back," Dean says before pacing a full circle around us.

I get up and look around with the shotgun aimed beside my torch. The place seems quiet and something is wrong. I look to the corner where the skeletons are. There seems to be something odd but I can't put my finger on it.

"Dean, how many skeletons are there supposed to be here?" I gulp.

"Three," he answers. "One for each of his friends. Why?"

"There are four here now," I whisper faintly.

Dean swears and stands in front of me with his gun ready. He turns his head to me and instructs, "Get him and yourself out of here as fast as you can."

I get Brendon off the floor and drag him out of the room. "What about you?" I ask.

"Don't worry about me, I'll be fine," he says. "Just go, get out of the building if you can."

I take Brendon by the arm and lead him out of the room and down the creepy hallway. I break into a run and Brendon yells again. I turn back to see the ghost right behind us, jumping towards us ad getting closer and closer by the second. I push Brendon behind me and shoot the thing, it disappears and we continue running. Finally we make it out into the larger, less haunted hallways.

"Pierce, wait," Brendon pants, "what's going on? Who are you people? Did you just call your Dad by name?"

I look at him sadly, "Most myths and legends are actually true. It's our job to find the harmful ones and kill them. No, Dean's is not my dad but he and his brother are the closest thing I have to family. Now there is an angry ghost on the loose and it apparently likes to keep skeletons. Why are you here?"

"I told you," he says. "I just lost my friends and I want to go find them. I can't live with the guilt that I'm left here alone just because I decided to stay in and watch soccer one night. It's a horrible feeling, losing friends."

"I know," I say simply. "But you have to face the truth. They're gone."

He looks down at the ground. "I know," he breathes.

"I'm sorry." I can't think of anything else to say.

Fighting noises and gunshots come from the haunted place. I hear Dean struggle inside with whatever he's facing. He doesn't seem to be winning and I start to worry. I look Brendon in the eye. "Look, I want you to get out of this place," I instruct. "Go home, you hear me?"

"What are you going to do?" Brendon asks.

"Dean's in trouble," I mutter as I load my shotgun. It clicks and I say, "I'm going in to help him."

"You can't do that!" Brendon exclaims. "It's not safe in there."

"Yes, I can," I fight back. "And that's exactly why I'm going in."

"Let me go with you," he offers.

"No," I turn down firmly. "Go home."

"I can't handle if you got hurt inside there," Brendon says. "I have enough guilt as it is."

I turn to him and say, "There are things you should know about me: I may look small and fragile but I'm no damsel in distress."

I run back down the corridor and into the room. Dean is kneeling beside a wall that has a gaping hole in it. The ghost is pulling him away but he is holding on and fighting back. His gun is strewn to one side, marking him as helpless.

"Leave him alone," I shout before shooting.

The ghost flails and disappears once more into smoke. I turn to Dean who looks relieved to be saved. I look at the hole in the wall. There lay a rotting corpse that bears resemblance to the ghost. I look to Dean again and he gives an expression that confirms the identity of the corpse.

"You don't happen to have any more rounds, do you?" He asks when he gets his breath back. I pass my last two to him. "Thanks. We just ran out of salt."

He breaks open the bullets and sprinkles the salt all over the body. He finds some flammable fluid and dumps it onto the body. He lights up the body and we watch it burn for a while. When the body is almost ashes, we walk out of the god forsaken place.

"Isn't the smoke alarms going to go off?" I ask, looking at the smoke that is slowly travelling out the building.

"It probably is," Dean agrees. "We should get out before the cops come. Thanks for saving me back there, by the way."

"No problem," I shrug. "You'd probably owe me something later on."

He chuckles and gives me a one armed squeeze. We walk out where Sam and Brendon are waiting for us. Both of them have concern written on their faces.

"What about the body?" Sam asks.

"I found it in the walls," Dean answers. "We torched it already."

Sam nods with relief. "Okay."

"This means we can leave town," Dean announces. "Do you want us to give you a ride home, Brendon?"

"Yeah, thanks," Brendon nods. "I think school will be cancelled for the day, with the fire alarm and everything."

Sam and Dean get in the car and it's just me and Brendon. He takes a deep breath before talking.

"So you're leaving?" He asks.

I nod.

"Okay," he mutters, "alright. I honestly thought that you would start school and then we can hang out together or something. You're a stunning girl, really. I would really like to have asked you out."

I smile sadly, "I'm so sorry. I wish things were different."

"You sure we can't make things work?" He tries hopefully.

I shake my head, "I'm not one for long distance relationships."

"Okay," he accepts before getting into the car.

We drive him home and he gets out. He bends down to thank us for the ride. Giving me one last, long look, he turns around and walk up the front yard and into the house. I wave to him as Dean starts the car again.

"Brace yourself," Dean says. "Every other relationship is going to be like that from here on out."

**Yes, Dean telling Pierce about the rough relationships ahead is a rather melancholy thing to write but it is something he would say (maybe in subtext). The relationship thing just serves to shed some light on the lonely life on the road. But they have family, which I find is lucky of them. The Winchester may have shitty luck on everything else but their bond is one thing everybody envies.**


	12. Chapter 12

We drive in the lovely summer weather through nice forests and hills and away from the last town. It's relaxing and therapeutic. We have the usual family moments with fights, squabbles, teasing and jokes. About two days after we left the last town, something interesting happens.

Dean spots someone standing beside the road, which is odd for a place in the middle of nowhere. For someone who is stranded in the middle of nowhere, the guy looks clean. Actually, he looks possibly cleaner than we do. Dean stops the car and leans out of his window.

"Cas, what're you doing here?" Dean asks. He obviously knows the guy.

Cas looks very serious, his eyebrows permanently drawn together. He is wearing a trench coat and a shirt and tie. He has short hair and bright blue eyes. "There are people chasing after you," he says. "It's not safe out here."

"What are you talking about?" Dean scowls. "Get in. You just have to sit in the back with her."

I scoot to the far end to get away from the stranger. I eye him warily and he studies me silently.

"Guys? Who is this?" I ask.

"My name is Castiel. I am an angel of the lord," Castiel answers way too seriously.

"Cas here told us where to find you, when Crowley got to you the last time," Sam explains.

"Thanks, I guess," I say.

"There is no need for you to be afraid of me, Pierce," Castiel says.

"How do you know my name?"

"Of course I would know your name," Castiel nods. "It's well known among the angels, which is why you're not safe."

"What do they want?" Dean asks.

"They want the Key," Castiel answers. He looks at me before saying, "They want you."

I nod, "I kind of guessed that."

I still haven't told them about the contents of my visions yet. They don't know they're visions. As far as they're concerned, I have been having bad headaches since I came back from Crowley. I don't want to tell them. It would potentially put them in danger and it would be my fault. I just want to live a long life as normal as possible and die with the world's biggest secret planted in my head.

I have considered dying straight away but I doubt that Sam and Dean would let me do that. I don't want to, either. I have come to enjoy the life we live right now, leaning on each other and no one else. I don't want that to end. Not to mention that I'm a great big chicken at inflicting wounds to myself.

"The angels sense that the Key is awakening and they want to rid the world of it as soon as possible," Castiel continues. "You must hide from them until it is safe."

"The Key is awakening? What does that mean?" Dean growls.

"It means that Pierce is finding out more and more about the summoning of hell's worst creatures. There is a cabin just off the road from here. I made sure that no supernatural thing can get into the area."

"How did you do that without hurting yourself?" Dean asks.

"I didn't," Castiel answers simply. "I have been weakened while getting the wards up. Don't worry, I just need some rest and I'll be fine. Turn here."

We turn in to a dirt road canopied by trees. We reach a small clearing with a log cabin in the centre. Dean stops the car and we get out. Walking up the pathway, I realize that Castiel is not following us. Dean turns around and looks at him.

"So you can only stand there?"

"Yes, unless you invite me in. Otherwise, it's like walking into a pit of acid."

"Come in, then," Dean says and Castiel walks with us into the log cabin.

The interior of the cabin is neat and well decked out for our needs. There is a main room with sofas and a fireplace at one side and a dining table beside a small kitchenette on the other side. There are four doors excluding the one leading outdoors. There are drawbacks, though. The entire cabin is only lit by little bulbs hanging sparsely on the ceiling and the rest of the place is completely void of electricity. The walls look slightly rickety and the curtains floating around in the wind at the widows are thin, worn and faded.

"This is cozy," Dean comments sarcastically. "How did you find this place?"

"That's not of your concern," Castiel says. "Stay in here and you'll be safe. All of you."

"If angels are looking for me, how can I be so sure you're not?" I turn on Castiel.

Castiel looks at me the expression on his face makes me regret my doubts. "I was the one who kept you safe and alive for so long. I turn heaven into chaos so that you could come here. I was cast out of heaven to keep you safe." His eyes intensify until they shine like twin blue laserlights, literally.

Suddenly, something inside me clicks and I understand everything. "You were the one who visited me when I was a baby," I realize. "You gave me this life, this second chance."

"Yes, you are but an innocent child," Castiel confirms. "I am under orders to protect you and keep you safe. As an angel, I am limited so I sent you to the most trustworthy name in the history of hunters. Seeing that you're still alive and breathing, they have not failed yet."

"If you have orders to save me, why do others have orders to kill me?"

"The other angels believe that killing you would end everything," Castiel explains. "Everyone has their own point of views, and theirs is violence. There are a fair few of us who want you for selfish reasons. They won't kill you, but they will be no better than Crowley."

"Maybe the others have a point," I say. "If the world needs to be rid of the secret, why not just kill me and be done with it?"

"Don't you even consider that option," Dean growls. "We keep you alive, that's our job. From my past experiences, death never solved anything." He looks at Castiel and says, "I thought the secret is hidden, even she doesn't know about it."

I turn to him, "I'm sorry I haven't told you guys but it's true. I am starting to uncover the secret. It turns out that I'm not just the key keeper, I am the key."

"What are you talking about?" Sam asks. "When did this happen?"

I sigh, "The key to open the gates of hell is not a physical thing. It's a ritual and a sacrifice." I look them in the eye and make the point, "I am the sacrifice."

"So you know all the steps to this ritual?" Dean scowls. "When did you start realizing all this?"

"When Crowley zapped me with some drill thing and I've been having these really bad migraines and I get visions when the headaches happen," I confess. "The pain is bearable, I guess. I get a heart attack on worse nights but I'm good."

"What about the ritual? Do you know the whole thing?" Dean probes.

"I know some parts but there are some fuzzy things," I shrug.

"Great, so do you want to tell us about it?"

I shake my head, "No, I'm not going to tell you."

"Why not?" Dean insists.

"It'll put everyone in danger," I say. "Not to mention, defeat the entire purpose of my existence."

Castiel agrees with me, "She's right. The secret should be kept a secret. And the secret keeper kept safe. They're coming for you. You must stay here until it is safe."

"I guess we can get settled down then," I say. "How long do we have to stay here?"

Castiel answers, "At least a week or two. You'll be safe by the end of the month."

I look at Dean and beg with him. He gives in reluctantly. "Alright, get your things and make yourselves at home. We'll be here for a while." To Castiel he asks, "You sure this is an angel proof place?"

Castiel nods, "Angels, demons and everything in between. They can only come in if you give them permission." He spots my pendant, "You still have that." I nod. "Keep it with you. It'll help bury the secret."

Without a word, Castiel disappears before our eyes. A bit bewildered I look at Dean and Sam. Dean pulls a face and says, "He tends to do that." He looks around and four doors in the cabin. They turn out to be three bedrooms and a bathroom. He points to the biggest room and says, "Dibs on this room. I'm going to park the car inside the circle and get our stuff."

I take the room furthest away on the far right near to the kitchen and Sam takes the one on the far left right next to the bathroom. Dean took the middle one, being his selfish self. We get settled in and I explore my room for the next fortnight. It is a comfortable size with a bed covered in soft sheets and a thick blanket. There are cupboards to keep my clothes in, although they are a bit dusty. I have a dressing table complete with a mirror as well. This is the most comfortable place I have stayed in so far. I think I might like it here.

I fall on the bed and close my eyes. I enjoy of the soft sheets against my skin. I realize that I need the rest. I shut the world out and just listen to the forest life outside. I sigh and drift off to a light sleep. I was just starting to really enjoy everything when something lands hard on my stomach, knocking the wind out of me. I look up and Dean is standing there laughing.

"You are evil, you know that?" I groan in pain.

"One of my perks," he chuckles and winks. "Your stuff," he points to the bag.

"Yeah, thanks for crushing my guts with them," I mutter sarcastically.

"Don't mention it," he says before walking out of the room. "Just get up in time for dinner. I'm cooking."

"There are supplies in the kitchen? I'm surprised."

"Yeah, there is enough food and beer to last for a month," Dean says. "Cas has done good."

I take a nap and wake up to the smell of something cooking. The scent of herbs and spices make my mouth water. My stomach grumbles and I get out to see what's cooking. I turn and see Dean setting plates of burgers down on the dining table. I raise my eyebrows and he grins proudly. Sam, who is sitting in the living space using his laptop, looks up and walks to the table.

I bite into the juicy burger and the flavor floods my taste buds. I must have had an impressed look on my face because Dean smiles smugly. Sam looks at me with an 'it's true' face.

"It is good?" Dean asks.

"It's amazing," I exclaim. "It's the best thing I've tasted the entire time I was here."

"Aw, shucks," Dean smiles. "You make me blush."

We finish dinner and I lounge on the sofa while Sam does his surfing. The fire is lit in the fireplace and warms up the large space. There is not much electricity in this place but miraculously there is Wi-Fi. Each room has a small light bulb to light up enough to create shadows everywhere. During the warm summer day it's comfortable, but the night time is cold and drafty.

Dean kills time by cleaning his arsenal of guns and knives. I lie there on my stomach watching them do their things and I sigh. They look up at me with questioning looks.

"Something tells me I'm going to be very bored by the end of it all," I comment.

Dean chuckles and says, "Yeah, you and me both. But it's a bit of a break, and we need some of that."

I look at Sam busy with his computer and I ask curiously, "What are you doing, Sam?"

"Nothing," he answers. "Just keeping watch on the surroundings."

"Okay," I reply. I twist myself so that I'm facing the ceiling. "Now what?"

"Now you're going to tell us what exactly Crowley did to you when he abducted you," Dean says. "I just realized that you never told us anything about it. All we know is that you get headaches now and again and they're really bad."

I reach for my pendant as an old habit. I think for a while before talking. "When the big guys took me from the store, they knocked me out because I was fighting too much and causing a scene. I woke up in a dark room, tied up and chained to the ground."

I pause for breath and continue, "Crowley came and asked for the key and I told him I didn't have it. He hit me every time I said I don't know about the key. Later, he got an assistant to do the dirty work, he stood there and kept asking me about the key.

"One time, he came in with this drill thing like the ones dentists use and he said that it uncovers truths, or at least cause enough pain so the victim tells willingly," I chuckle half-heartedly. "He aimed at my head and turned it on." I stretch my neck to see an upside down image of Dean who is frowning there with a dismantled gun in his hand. "It hurt," I tell him. "But it didn't work."

"He aimed for my heart one day and I started seeing things," I recount. "Before that it was just white hot pain that's blinding and numbing my brain. This time it was worse and I started seeing and hearing things. After that, you guys came and saved me." I smile at Dean, "Thanks for that."

"Yeah, no problem," Dean says. "Why didn't you tell us this before?"

I shrug, "You never asked."

"That's not funny," Dean says.

"I never said it was," I look at him unsmilingly.

Dean puts down his gun and says, "You have to talk to us, man. We need to know what's going on so we can help you. Hell, heaven and everything in between is looking for you. And I want to know why."

I sit up and look him straight in the eye, "There's a ritual, there's a sacrifice. Only I know the steps for the ritual and I am the sacrifice. There's not much else to that." I sigh, "I don't actually know everything about it yet, and I plan on keeping it that way. I'm not going to discover more about it and I don't want to."

"But there is obviously a method out there that can draw out the secret," Dean argues back. "Now it's our job to keep it down. Also our dad owes it to your dad to keep you safe and alive so you can stop thinking about killing yourself either."

"Why? Then I can be out of your way and one less responsibility for you!"

"Pierce, we're not going to let you die," Dean raises his voice. "What's the point of us coming all the way here and taking care of you for so long if you're just going to kill yourself at the end of it? Besides, you owe it to your own father. He's been trying all these years to keep you safe, the least you could do is try and fight for your life as long as you can."

"Dean's right," Sam speaks up gently. "It's not worth what your dad has done, what Cas has done and what we've done for you to just give up."

"But this is all so pointless," I say in a strangled voice, trying to choke back tears. "If I get caught by anybody, they'll torture the summoning ritual out of me then kill me. If I manage to stay safe, I am still going to die with the secret it's just a matter of sooner or later."

"That's not a reason to stop living," Dean exclaims. "Every day we live brings us closer to death, but you don't see us just dropping everything and giving up. I don't care if demons and angels rain chaos down here until you're a wrinkly old woman, we're going to fight them until the day you die a natural death."

He stands up for that freaky height advantage. "You're not just another job to us anymore. You're as good as family to us now, do you know that? You're like our baby sister and we do not just give up on family like that, you hear me? So whether you like it or not, we're keeping you safe and alive. Understand?"

I cast my head down and nod, tears threatening to pour.

"So I say we forget about the whole key thing and just concentrate on keeping you out of harm's way. Okay?"

"Okay," I manage to squeak out. I fight back the tears and look up at him, "Thanks."

His expressions soften and he says, "It's okay. Come here."

He sits beside me and I lean in for the hug. He holds me tight and I lay my head on his shoulder. I look at Sam who smiles at me and I try a watery smile back. Family, that's what we are. We'll stick together and fight until our last breath. Family.

**New character introduction! Cas will come out more in the third installment. (Yes, this is the end.) I hoped you liked it and will continue to read Part Three. Following this is an End Note from the Author (me) just like Part 1. It's not obligatory to read it but you can if you want. Do put a review down below and let me know what you think of my story so far and if there are ways for me to improve my writing. Thank you.**


	13. Author's End Note

**Hello! Yes it's the end of Part 2. I am here to dish some dirt on whatever was going through my mind when I wrote this. Also I'll be answering some reviews I couldn't get back to because they are guests and they did pose some really good questions. Okay, fine, there is only one right now, but I'll constantly update this when there are things I need to clear.**

**One review asks if Cas is going to come in to the whole story: The answer is that he'll just pop in to explain some things and he's not actually a big character in this story. He is important in a way as in he is there to help Pierce and the boys whenever they need it. He has appointed himself as Pierce's guardian angel so he feels responsible for her and pops in every so often. But no, he has nothing to do with the main plot.**

**She also questioned Dean's characteristics: I don't want to spoil anything but Dean little character slip is a link to something towards the end of the third instalment. To me, it's would be something younger Dean would say (which is what this was based on, even though he is older) It may be something Dean would say back when he had taller, stronger walls and defiance that since diminished almost completely. **

**Thanks, Marina for your questions and your review. **

**As for the dirt on this story...**

**In chapter 8 where Sam and Pierce were having a little bonding session in the car while Dean gets his beauty sleep, Sam was supposed to reveal their birth dates and who they were named after. He also told her about Dean's fear of heights. Dean was supposed to wake up and hear the dirt dishing and give Sam a good clock across the back of his head. Dean grumbled and suggested breakfast.**

**I cut this all out because I find the whole "revealing what the show has already stated in a conversation for no apparent reason" make the story sound very cheap and, well, amateur-ish. I'm not putting any other stories that do write canon facts down, I just don't like it. It's that simple. **

**The whole Brendon story is just something I decided to put in to give their personal life some definition. Sam's past girlfriends have all died in some gory way and Dean only ever have flings (besides Lisa) because he simply can't afford to put anybody in danger. Brendon is a small representation of that tough, lonely life they are living. **

**Brendon did take up some unnecessary extra chapters but I think it has served it's purpose and I'm well proud of it. Brendon is pretty much based on Sterling Knight because someone gently reminded me that Sterling may be coming in to Supernatural in Season 9. It's just a small vent. **

**Brendon is Pierce's first (almost) relationship. This I took from imagining myself being moved to a country with majority Caucasians and wondering if anybody would be interested in me the same way we take interest Caucasians here in humble South East Asia. **

**Maybe some of you can help ease my wondering. Would you ogle at somebody standing around randomly because they have yellow-tinged skin and slightly squint-y looking eyes? Would you take interest in how their hair is so straight and dark? Would you notice that their pupils and iris are pretty much the same colour? Or do have plenty of people who look like that to not really be bothered about it?**

**And that's just the outside. What about the way they speak? Would you find their accent cute? Would you fall for the way they can't fully roll their Rs or they way they sound as if they speak a little slower? Would you admire the way they speak their mother tongue, a language totally new to you? Or is it very annoying and a great burden to listen to? **

**Because I can tell you now that the first thing we notice is how your hair, no matter how dark, don't exactly match our shade. The next thing is your eyes and how big and bright they look. We notice how golden flecks reflect in your hair under the sun. We look you straight in the eyes, not to be intimidating, but to determine the colour of your eyes and its name. We probably come off as creepy because we look at you a lot. We are only trying to count the colours in your hair, how many times your eyes have changed colour, and all the freckles that spray across your noses. We might giggle at how easily you turn red but it's just because we find it cute (and a little foolish) that you refuse to put on sun block. **

**So I guess if you ever feel bad about yourself, just remember that somewhere across the world a whole bus load of teenagers are drooling over your best features. I don't know how this turned so deep and emotional but I won't remove it in case anybody ever needs it. Also please do answer the questions I posed above, because I really want to know. **

**I think that's all for now. I hope you liked this instalment and that you'll continue reading the third and last one that is already up. But if it's 4 am and you've just finished this one, it's okay. Just bookmark it and get some sleep. Read it tomorrow.**


End file.
